Self-Introduction / Sewing Machine in My Father’s Study — “Dad’s Day” with My Mother

Hello, my name is Ester.

For three generations—my grandmother, my mother, and now me—handcrafts have been part of our lives. We’ve enjoyed them not just as a hobby, but as something that connects our hearts and gives us strength.

Today, I make small handmade items with my mother, and we’ve started sharing some of our creations online. In this note, I’d like to share stories of our family, our crafts, and the special moments that sewing has brought us.

⸻

People often ask me how I got into sewing.
Honestly, I can’t point to a single moment or reason.
My mother was always crafting, so for me, handwork was simply there, a part of everyday life.

She was always stitching—patchwork, cross-stitch…
Watching her work carefully, stitch by stitch, I came to admire her quietly and deeply.

And my mother’s mother—my grandmother—was also passionate about crafts.
She enjoyed making traditional Japanese-style crafts, like decorative fabric accessories and stitched ornaments made with kimono fabric and Japanese textiles.
Even in her 80s, she was full of curiosity and still eager to try something new. She once told my mom, “I want to learn patchwork!”

My grandmother passed away last year at the age of 96.

While going through her belongings, we found leftover kimono fabrics she had used to make clothes for my mom and grandfather, as well as some unfinished patchwork she had tried by herself. Each tiny piece of fabric still carried the warmth of her hands and heart.

⸻

Six months after her passing, my father passed away, too.

That year, my mother had to say goodbye to both her mother and her husband—the two dearest people in her life.
Even though she had prepared herself for it, the loss left a deep emptiness.

Now in her 70s and living alone for the first time, my mother found strength and comfort in sewing again.

We placed a sewing machine in my father’s old study, where his care bed once was.
I draped the Hawaiian quilt I had made over the machine like a cover, and my mother now sits there, quietly working on bags and pouches.
Sewing seems to help her stay balanced and grounded.

One of the unfinished patchwork pieces left by my grandmother was turned into small pouch-like “rosary bags” by my mother.
We made two—one for each of us.
A piece of old kimono that my grandmother had sewn for my mother as a child became a tote bag I now use every day to carry my documents.

⸻

Each month, on my father’s death anniversary, I visit my mother.
We call it “Dad’s Day.”

On those days, she happily shows me all the things she has made in the past month.
Lately, she’s been saying, “I enjoy making things so much—I hope someone out there can use them.”

That’s how we began selling our handmade items online, little by little.

“Dad’s Day” has now become our crafting meeting day.
We talk about new ideas:
“Let’s try making this next.”
“How about using this fabric?”
We imagine what my father would say, smiling in his photo frame as we plan for the future.

“Dad, we’re doing our best.”
I can almost hear his voice answering back-“Yeah-that’s great!”

⸻

Sewing is not only fun—it can also be a source of healing.
It connects people, holds memories, and weaves generations together.

In this note, I’ll continue to share stories from our handmade journey: everyday crafting, the stories behind each piece, and the people we miss.

I hope our words and work can gently touch someone’s heart.

Thank you for being here.
And if you’d like, please take a look at the items my mother and I have created.
→ https://www.instagram.com/ester_3530?igsh=a25jcXJtNWdrcm1n

The photo of the cherry blossoms  taken by my father before his death.